Boats from Hermes pulled around the wreckage remaining well clear of the survivors. None were taken aboard, and the ravenous sharks in the water soon ensured there were no survivors.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Sea Fencibles
Vesta left the convoy at the Nore, before proceeding upriver. She dropped anchor in the Pool in mid-August 1807. Captain Phillips had given the skipper of the pilot boat letters to be posted; one to his wife, and the other to Charlotte. This worthy promised to post them the moment he reached shore.
He had to spend some time at the Admiralty, going over the various reports he had brought with him; some generated by himself, and others by Admiral Pellew. He had about had his fill of officialdom, when he was told he could go back to his ship and begin the process to pay her off.
The officers, when every item on board was inventoried by the various officials involved, would scatter to the wind. Some would find berths in other ships right away; others might wait for months or even longer. The standing officers and crew did not have this worry though. The crew members were nabbed by officers from other ships, pleased they were able to procured trained seamen who had completed at least one long commission, and could be entered “Able Seaman’ on the new ship’s book.
The standing officers, of course, would remain with the old ship as long as she remained on the Royal Navy’s books, or until promotion brought a position into a larger vessel. When the last fathom of line had been accounted for, and the last ha’ penny worth of tar had been inventoried, Captain Phillips left the empty ship with Peabody. This retainer had been with him for several years, and had expressed no desire to do without him. The man was in one person one of the most gentle persons he had ever met, while also being the strongest, and most capable. The only problem was Peabody was not now, and would never be a seaman.
The carpenter, who would be staying aboard, bade them goodbye, and Phillips was now on half pay. He hired a chaise and told the driver to take them to the ‘Star and Garter’, a decent inn that had been recommended to him.
Upon reaching the inn, right off, he noticed his coach, parked in the yard; the one he had purchased a few years before, and had restored to like-new condition with the application of many a coat of lacquer. Now, there were scrapes and dings in the finish, and he could see the first order of business would be to have the finish restored. Peabody went over to the vehicle to examine it, while Phillips went inside.
There was a certain amount of anxiety in Phillip’s heart. His wife Sarah, had not always been the most faithful wife, but he had come to realize that he did love her, and desperately hoped she had not been involved in more escapades while he was gone.
The porter met him at the door, and took his hat and sword. He identified himself and asked for his wife. The porter assured him she was in the house, and was sure she would be right down.
He had just settled himself in the inn’s parlor with a glass of wine, when a mature woman approached him. She identified herself as the wife of the proprietor and seemed to be a little nervous. When pressed to send for Sarah, the woman told him that Charlotte Norris was also in residence.
Norris had given her orders that Phillips was to see her before his wife was notified. Norris was known to the inn’s staff to be a wealthy and powerful woman, one who could destroy the reputation of the establishment, given enough cause. Clearly, the woman thought she had a case of a wife and a mistress in the same building.
Phillips had no idea of what the devil was going on, but he was having none of it. The problem was easily solved. He walked to the center of the room, raised his face to the ceiling, and with a bellow, normally used only to issue orders to topmen aloft in a raging storm, called for Sarah.
It was only a few minutes when she came running breathlessly down the stairs, and into his arms. After a few minutes, he asked her where the children were. She replied that since she had not known just how long she might need to wait, she decided to leave them at home with the nanny and butler.
“What about Charlotte? Did you come with her?”
A look of pure hatred came over her face. “Woops, he thought, these women have had a tiff about something. I had better watch myself.”
Thinking fast, he reached down and patted her rump. “Let’s you and I go upstairs for a bit and admire the decor.”
That was the moment that Peabody chose to come into the inn’s parlor. Phillips thought Sarah’s greeting to him sounded a little stilted, as it should, he thought. Peabody wasted no time on small talk. “Where is Charlotte?” he wondered.
An alarm went off in Phillip’s head. Men of Peabody’s status level did not refer to women of Norris’ standing by their first names. With no one answering his question, he did much as Phillips had. Standing in the middle of the parlor, he roared, “Charlotte, you get your arse down here!”
Sarah was horrified for a moment, when Charlotte came to the staircase, and ran down the steps. As she threw herself in Peabody’s arms, a young woman in maid’s attire followed her down the stairs, in her arms, she carried a young infant. John and Sarah stood there amazed, Sarah probably more than John. “This is …?” wondered Peabody.
“This is William Edward, named after you” Charlotte stated firmly.
Sarah found her voice. “But I thought ..!”
“You thought this was John’s baby!” answered Charlotte.
“But why didn’t you say something?” asked Sarah.
“Because you thought I was sleeping with your husband, and I just thought since you were no longer my friend, I wouldn’t be bothered to tell you!”
Charlotte took the baby from the nurse, and the two women went off to the next room to talk. When they came back, an eternity later, Sarah was holding the baby, and Charlotte led Peabody upstairs.
Phillips stood there bemused. He had much the same ambitions as Peabody, but his wife was standing there with another woman’s child. What the devil to do?
Sarah had the answer. Seeing the nurse standing in the corner, she handed the infant to her, and John and Sarah went upstairs themselves.
Winter had set in again. Phillips was thoroughly enjoying his time at home with his wife and two children. Timothy was a mature lad who would talk to his father for hours, wanting to know everything there was to know about the Royal Navy. Abigail was an assertive little girl. She knew what she wanted, and insisted upon having her own way. She usually got it too, at least from her father.
It was the middle of February when Captain Anderson came calling. John and Timothy were out in the forest on a ramble when they heard the melodious sound of the dinner bell. He had installed the bell after listening to many harangues from his wife about the necessity of being on time for meals. He wondered though. They had had their dinner just an hour before, and it was definitely not time for supper. Despite Timothy’s protest, John decided they had better call it a day and return to the house.
A strange gig was parked by the stables, so he knew it was just a matter of one or more visitors. He recognized Captain Anderson as soon as he saw him. Anderson had been a fixture in the community since before Phillips went to sea. He had been promoted directly from lieutenant to post captain as a young man as the result of political influence. After a few years commanding his first ship he never returned to the sea. Over the years, his position on the captain’s list continued to rise. Now, almost at the top, he might very well be an admiral within the next few years. Disregarding his naval prospects, over the years, he had become a prosperous landowner in the county. He owned several thousand acres of prime land, and was a valued guest at every estate, as well as, many a town house in London.
Over brandy and cigars in the gun room, Anderson came to the point. “Phillips, do I understand correctly that you are done with the sea for a bit?”
“I think so, Anderson. My children are growing up, and I need to spend some time with my wife. I told Mister Nepean at the Admiralty I might be available for short commissions occasionally, but aside
from that, I would prefer to be with my family.”
“Phillips, I happen to command the local ‘Sea Fencible’ district. What do you know of that organization?”
“Well. Captain, I have had nothing to do with the organization, but I understand them to be sort of a sea going militia,”
That is correct, Captain Phillips. We have organized some of our maritime people into units modelled after naval organizations. They are issued and train with arms and are paid. We have a few junior naval officers, some retired, and others who find themselves without a ship. These officers are helping me train the people. I do need another post captain to second me. I realize the pay for an officer who has been as fortunate with prize money as yourself, is laughable, but it is £1 10s. per day. The position would call for very little of your time. We train one day of every week. Your duties would consist of overseeing that training. Most of your duty will take place on that training day. Occasionally, it may be necessary for you to come in to our headquarters for a briefing, or to give us needed advice. You would have the assistance of a retired RN lieutenant. Since some reports will need to be generated, you will need a clerk. Our village school master has been filling that slot for some time now. He is rated as petty officer, and is familiar with the reports you may need to file.”
“Our unit mans the Martello Towers along the coast, and patrols our waters in their boats. The Mortellos are copies of small fortresses our forces encountered on the coast of Cypress. It was found one tower with a gun and a small force could repel a much larger force. Boat owners are compensated for wear and tear and hold protection certificates to prevent their impressment. Our mission is to assist our naval forces to repel a French attempt at invasion. Also, we look out for enemy naval vessels and privateers.
“I wonder, Captain Anderson, have you any slots open for midshipmen? My son is twelve years old, and I would like to find him a spot where he could get the feel of the Service.”
“I don’t know, Phillips. You must understand many of our people are long time professionals, and would not look kindly to a twelve year old squeaker giving them orders.
However, perhaps we can make an exception in this case. We could assign him to our headquarters, which happens to be the village church. His duties would consist only of fetching and carrying. It must be understood that he would have no executive duties at all.”
“Those conditions sound reasonable, Captain Anderson. I wonder, what does the churches rector think of you taking over his church?”
“Well, normally we need the whole church only on Tuesdays, which is our training day. Parson Wilkins allows us to keep an office in the church during the rest of the week. One of us, either you or I, would occupy that office when on duty. As for Parson Wilkins feelings, he happens to be our purser when on duty.”
Phillips swirled the last of the brandy in his glass, and draining it, rang for his butler. This worthy, a former Regimental Sergeant Major, was adept in anticipating Phillips’ wants, and appeared with a fresh bottle and glasses on a tray. Phillips addressed Captain Anderson.
“I believe I will take you up on your offer, Captain. With the proviso, of course, that I will be free to return to active duty if the Admiralty calls.”
“Then, Phillips, I believe we should board my carriage and repair to the village school, where our clerk may draft orders assigning you to our band of Merry Men!”
The next day, Phillips drove to the next village, where he called on a gentleman he knew. This man had kitted his own boy out as a midshipman, but after the lad decided the seagoing life was not for him, the acquaintance was left with the uniforms, dirk and sextant. For a nominal price, Phillips bought the whole kit. The clothing he left at the tailor who already had Timothy’s sizes. The hardware, he took home with him. The potboy, well trained by the butler, proceeded to put a shine on the dirk’s silver mountings, as well as the brass parts of the sextant.
He contracted with the local carpenter to construct a sturdy sea chest, and that completed the work necessary to bring the boy on duty. Sarah was not amused by the evidence that her baby might soon leave her, but her friend Charlotte assured her it was just a case of the men playing their games, and likely the boy would never go to sea.
With the lad’s kit now complete, Phillips took him to the local school to get his orders. As the carriage pulled up to the school’s door, they could hear the student’s voices inside conjugating Latin verbs aloud. Phillips asked Timothy how his Latin was coming along. When Timothy looked dubious, Phillips expressed to him the necessity of Latin, French and mathematics for any young man aspiring to be a sea officer.
Orders in hand, the next stop was at the village church. Approaching, they noticed Lieutenant Andrews on the steps, finishing his pipe before entering. Andrews was an ancient officer who had a leg shot off way back in the American war. For all that, he was a commission officer and deserved a salute from Midshipman Phillips. Young Phillips was instructed to lift his hat to Andrews when the vehicle came to a stop at the church steps.
There was a flurry of motion as Andrews saluted his captain, Phillips answering, and the mid saluting his division officer.
Once inside, everyone was introduced. Captain Anderson had to leave, so he deputed Andrews to serve as guide. They spent the rest of the day touring the unit’s facilities. Phillips was especially impressed by the Martello towers. These were huge, stonework fortifications, armed with a single eighteen pounder long gun. He could see it would be very costly to an enemy that tried to cause any mischief. In addition to the big guns, with interlocking fields of fire with their neighbors, a network of trenches behind the towers would hopefully prevent any landing parties from gaining a foothold.
Andrews admitted, they would have a difficult time holding those trenches if a landing party came at them from the rear, but it was hoped the local Militia forces could assist with manning the trenches. At any rate, any French invasion force would likely have its work cut out for them.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Marital Discord
By midsummer, Captain Phillips could congratulate himself on doing a good job with the local defenses. His people were alert and well trained. He was especially pleased with Timothy. The young midshipman had proved to be an asset to the Fencibles. The lad being a skilled horseman, Phillips had purchased a blooded grey gelding for the boy. He became adept at galloping down lanes and cross country delivering messages and dispatches.
One morning, the family was at breakfast; Phillips holding forth to his captive audience about the dastardly politicians in London who were holding up funding for some guns he wished to mount on the fishing fleet. The bells on the church tower interrupted him in mid-sentence. This was the signal for an alert, and all knew there was no such practice alert scheduled for the day.
Phillips ran to his room and hurriedly donned his uniform and sword. Going outside, he found Grimes there with his new hunter, Nelson. This horse was as fast as any in the county, and Phillips believed nobody from the neighborhood could beat him to the coast. Of course, as deputy commander, he should set up a command post in the church, but he considered if this alert was not a false alarm, he needed to be where the action might be. The harbor was the only place nearby where it was feasible for a force to land from the sea, so he had decided to set up his post in one of the Martello towers.
It had rained the night before, and the lane was muddy in places. His cloak was becoming filthy with the mire thrown up by the animal’s hooves. As he approached the location where another lane merged with the one he was travelling, he noticed a small figure on a grey horse thundering toward him. It was Timothy! The boy had learned the topography of the area well with his dispatch riding duties, and had taken a shorter way than his father had selected. This included jumping a few fences and a brook that his father would never have considered.
There being no time for the two to stop and argue, they thundered on, side by side to the coast. Pulling up at one of the towers, Phillips senior
tossed the reins to a seaman, and ran inside and up to the roof. A dozen men were gathered around the huge eighteen pounder gun, and a petty officer came over and doffed his hat to Phillips.
“Sir”, he reported. “A big cutter came into our harbor last night and cut out Mister Fletcher’s brig, the “Mary Hopkins’. The cutter is gone, but you can still see the brig’s tops’ls just at the horizon. That brig was always slow, and maybe we can catch her!”
Amos Hendricks had outfitted his schooner with a pair of nine pounder guns at his own expense, and was standing by ready to go after the wayward brig. Giving a nod, Phillips joined the men crowding aboard. Although Hendricks only ranked as a master’s mate in the Fencibles, this was his own boat and no one was as familiar with it as he. The men loading aboard were armed with a motley collection of arms, from government issued muskets to homemade pikes and clubs.
The schooner started out with just the headsails, but soon had all the laundry on the line. She skirted a little closer to a sand bar than Phillips would have liked, had he been sailing her, but she did not touch, and then they were at sea. Phillips went back to stand by the tiller, and there he saw his son. He had lost sight of him in the confusion on shore, and had thought the boy had remained there. Phillips knew Sarah would skin him alive if she found the boy had accompanied him to sea. Well, perhaps the lad would be afflicted with sea sickness, and decide to give up the sea.
This did not happen though. Soon, he saw the boy aloft, led there by Hendricks own son, who delighted in skylarking high above the others. The boys kept the others apprised of the actions of the brig they were chasing, and it became evident they were overhauling her hand over fist. Now being close to the French coast, the chase might well have evaded them, had there been a suitable port handy, but there was not. They were within soundings when they came alongside. The prize crew aboard the Mary Hopkins had a few muskets, and tried a few shots. Hendricks had a gun loaded with case shot, and fired that. The blast of small shot effectively cleared the deck of enemy combatants.
Trafalgar and Beyond: A John Phillips Novel (War at Sea Book 3) Page 12
